


A Man In Uniform

by koenigs_bambina



Series: Why Can't I Romance Deacon? [3]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Denial of Feelings, F/M, Fluff, Foreplay, If you choose that path, Smut, Uniforms as a turn on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-03 07:37:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13336494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koenigs_bambina/pseuds/koenigs_bambina
Summary: Cherry and Deacon head to Diamond City for the day and boy is she surprised by how good Deacon looks in a guard uniform. He catches wind and, of course, takes the jokes as far as they can go.“Well gee, Boss, not for nothing, but last time someone looked at me like that, I ended up handcuffed to a yao guai, covered in Nuka-Cola.”(I hadn't intended this to end in smut— it was just an idea born out of my love for Deacon in Diamond City. So, I decided to do a “choose your own ending,” where you can finish with fluff, or finish with.... well, them finishing).





	1. Day, Interrupted

It wasn’t often that there was a perfect day in The Commonwealth. Usually, sounds of gunshots and creatures polluted the air, rad storms blocked out the sun, and death and destruction lurked around every corner. But not today. 

Today, Deacon and Cherry were camped out in a small shack next to a lake. The sun had just risen into a clear blue sky and was shining just enough to tempt anyone into sunbathing. There was no pressing need to be anywhere; missions were on hold until further notice, and no settlements were sending for help. 

Deacon smiled to himself, kicked his feet up on the end table in front of him, and relaxed into the lawn chair he had found. This was going to be a good day. A good, relaxing,  _ lazy  _ day, and the best part was, there was no noise. No raiders shouting “Asshole,” shattering your eardrum with their gunshots. No ghouls growling and moaning as they hurl themselves blindly in your direction. No deathclaws or yao guais sounding off, letting everyone within 500 feet know that you were on their turf.

Deacon’s profession was listening, and on this peaceful day off, he was elated that there was nothing for him to listen to. 

That was, until Cherry woke up.

“Damn it,” She shouted from inside the shack, rummaging. “DAMN IT,” she declared, somehow managing to create the sound of approximately fifty-six pots and pans clanging against one another. 

Deacon winced and shifted slightly in his chair, hoping that she was done with whatever had her so frustrated so he could get back to his well-deserved R-and-R. 

But of course, she wasn’t. 

“I swear to  _ God _ !” She slammed down whatever she had in her hands and let out a long, exasperated growl.

“You do realize that we have a day off, right?” Deacon called towards her. “That means sun, fun, relaxation… maybe a barbeque if they haven’t all been scrapped for parts.”

Without even being in the same room with her, he could feel the waves of annoyance rolling off of Cherry’s body. He knew it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to say, but hey, anything for a laugh, right?

“One of the screws in my Pipboy fell out last night, and I  _ apparently  _ don’t have any spares, though I could swear that I did-- and now it keeps falling off my wrist,” She called back, curtly. 

“Have you tried asking it nicely to stay on your arm?” This time, the rolling waves didn’t feel annoyed or angry.  _ Damn. There goes my relaxing day off. _

Deacon grunted as he launched himself out of his chair and strode into their shelter. He leaned in the doorway and looked down at his fellow agent, who was cradling her Pipboy, staring up at him with big, sad, puppy dog eyes. 

He let out a resigned huff and squatted so he was eye-to-eye with her… well, sunglass-to-eye. “Do you want to go to Diamond City and buy some new screws?”

Cherry looked down at the mess she had created and sighed deeply. “Yes. Please.” 

Deacon chuckled and shook his head. He definitely was the childish one of the pair, but when she had her petulant days, Charmer was a real handful. Not that he minded, though.

“Alright,” he smirked, holding his arm out to help her up, “but you owe me noodles from Takahashi, when we get there.”

“Deal.” She agreed, grasping his hand and pulling herself up, bag slung over her shoulder. “Let’s get a move on.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours later, they were nearing the gates of the repurposed stadium. Cherry was always in awe of how different the world was from what she had grown up with. She recalled standing outside of these very gates, with Nate, bashfully hoping that he didn’t notice her blush every time that one of the players walked by. She never  _ could  _ resist a man in uniform. Maybe that’s why she fell for Nate in the first place, though his military fatigues never quite matched up with the tight pants of a baseball player. 

As she fondly reminisced about the old days, Deacon caught the knowing glance of a Tourist, milling about the left gate.

“Hey Charmer,” he started, eyes still on the Railroad agent, “it seems like you're not the only one in the way of my day off.” Deacon quirked his head minimally so that no one other than his partner would catch his drift. 

Sure enough, her eyes flicked to the side, and she bobbed her head in a quick nod of acknowledgment. “It would seem so.”

“Why don’t you head on inside and get Takahashi started on those noodles? I’ll catch up with you in a jiffy.” 

She scrunched her nose up and shook her head at him. “I’ll only go if you never say the word ‘jiffy,’ again.”

Deacon coughed out a quick laugh and responded while backing towards their informant: “I don’t know if that’s a deal I’m willing to take.” He then turned his back and continued on with his task, leaving Cherry grinning to herself as she headed out to take care of her end of business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Don't forget to comment and kudos!


	2. I'm not turned on... YOU'RE turned on

Forty-five minutes later, Cherry had bartered a fistful of screws in exchange for some extra wonderglue she had on hand, did a sweep of the marketplace to make sure there were no spies of any competing groups,  _ and  _ grabbed two bowls of noodles for herself and her roguish companion. 

However, as time slipped by, she had finished her meal and was growing impatient. She didn’t like to be kept waiting, and there were much better things she could be doing with her time, rather than protecting a bowl of ancient ramen from hungry scavengers. 

“Jiffy, my ass,” she muttered, hopping down from her stool, resolved that Deacon had kept her waiting long enough, and he would just have to use his great stalking skills to find her on his own. 

However, her plan was cut short as she spun on her heel and smacked directly into a tall stranger, promptly landing on her butt, with her glasses two feet to her left. “Oof!”

Her vision was blurry, but she could make out the pants and boots of a Diamond City guard, standing before her.

“You know, ma’am, you should really look where you’re going. A civilian could have been seriously injured,” the officer scolded in a familiar voice.

“Oh, ha ha,” Cherry scoffed, rolling her eyes as she cleaned her glasses. “Impersonating an officer is a crime, you know.” 

“Not if they don’t know you’re doing it,” Deacon replied with a grin in his voice. 

Cherry stifled the feeling of begrudging amusement that she had grown to know in her time with Deacon and placed her glasses back on her face. She knew she could never win in a battle of “Deacon, you’re an idiot,” because no matter how annoying he was, she couldn’t help but enjoy every minute with him. 

She drew in a deep breath and prepared to launch into a lengthy repartee that no doubt ended in him keeping the uniform because he “looks badass.” However, as Cherry lifted her gaze to take him in, she realized that she had not prepared for the possibility that he  _ could  _ look good in the outfit. 

The sun bathed him in a golden light as it began to dip low in the sky, illuminating his features in a way that Cherry had always tried to ignore before. It wasn’t that she didn’t find Deacon attractive; she just knew that he would never let his guard down enough for them to go down that path. So, she usually stifled herself whenever he took on a more tempting light. 

But it was pretty damn hard for her to ignore this one. Especially when she had always been weak when it came to a man in uniform. And  _ man  _ did he look good in uniform.

The tight baseball getup hugged his muscular frame, and the padding/metal trappings of the armor gave him a much more commanding air than his usual t-shirt and jeans combo. He seemed taller, sturdier.  He looked like someone you wanted to break the law in front of, just so they could twist your arm behind your back and press you up against a wall, and--

The breath she had taken slipped out of her in a wordless “ _ oh.”  _ Then, realizing how obviously she had reacted, Cherry quickly averted her gaze, coughing awkwardly.

But it was too late. Deacon noticed everything. His eyebrows quirked up as his smirk deepened in a dastardly way. There was no way Cherry was getting out of this one. 

“Well gee, Boss, not for nothing, but last time someone looked at me like that, I ended up handcuffed to a yao guai, covered in Nuka-Cola.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cherry attempted, rising to her feet and focusing her attention on swiping dust off her knees. She naively hoped that the one comment would be it, but Deacon had only begun.

“Is it the cop thing? Or the baseball thing? Cause I can get behind either one… or both, if that’s what you’re into. A pro-hitter whose career ends with the tragic death of his best friend, so he decides to give back to society by becoming part of the law--”

“I don’t have a  _ thing.  _ You just surprised me,” She huffed, finally turning to look at him. “Why are you even wearing that, anyway? You could have chosen any disguise, but you  _ had  _ to pick one that could potentially get you thrown in jail.”

Deacon beamed at her, knowing the criticism and annoyance she displayed had nothing to do with him breaking the law. But he figured he would throw her a bone, at least for as long as it took for him to explain. 

“Alright, ma’am, that’s enough. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to stand against that wall with your arms above your head, and your legs spread,” Deacon announced loudly, causing several citizens to shift their attention to the two.

“What are you-- hey!” Cherry exclaimed as he shoved her forward. Her palms made a loud slap against the side of the metal shack in front of her, and her boots kicked up dust as Deacon knocked her legs apart. 

He leaned in close as he began to frisk her. “We were starting to look suspicious, standing there like that.”

“So, to solve that, you decided to publicly harass me?”

“I’m supposed to be a Diamond City guard, remember?” He retorted, patting down her arms.

“I don’t recall Danny Sullivan ever slamming me against a building.”

“Oh, but I bet you wish he would,” Deacon teased. “Or am I the only one that has this effect on you?” His breath was hot on her neck as he whispered to her, hands sliding down to her hips. Cherry swallowed thickly and tried to stifle a shudder; She had thought about Danny before, but Deacon was right. He was the only person in that uniform that had ever made her feel so...so... _. _

_He can_ _never find out about this_. 

One, because he would never let her live it down, and two, because these feelings had the potential to ruin the best friendship she had in the Wasteland.

No, It was better for her to cover it up and play his game until he got bored. Cherry sneered back at him, voice dripping with sass, “And what effect would that be? Disgust? Annoyance? Pity? Because you’re right, Danny has never affected me like  _ that _ before.”

“Ouch, Boss. Just because I’m a hunk doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings,” Deacon feigned hurt, finishing up his search of his partner. He knew what she was doing, and there was no way she was going to win. 

His self-satisfied smile slid back into place as he thought of his next move. It would no doubt get him in trouble later, but they needed to get out of there, and he wanted the victory.

Deacon stepped closer to his partner and swept her arms behind her back in one motion. Then, he leaned in and purred in her ear, “I might just have to take you back to the station and lock you up for the night. Maybe rough you up a bit, so you know who’s in charge.”

“D-Deacon?” Cherry choked out, her breath exhaling in a pant. 

“Ah-a-ah… not so loud, don’t want to blow my cover, do we?” He tightened his grip on her as he fidgeted with something behind her back. Then, Cherry felt the cool metal of handcuffs clicking into place on her wrists. “Now, let’s get you into a cell, shall we?”

He spun her around and pulled her forward. The residents of Diamond City were watching with shock. Cherry felt the same way.  It didn’t feel like Deacon was playing anymore, and she wasn’t exactly sure how she felt about it. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Don't forget to comment and kudos!


	3. You Have The Right To Remain Silent

After what felt like an eternity of walking, they reached the police station. Once inside, Deacon made a beeline for one of the interrogation rooms, nodding at a couple of the officers that were milling about. They seemed confused to see him but opened the door nonetheless. 

“Another one  _ off  _ the books, get me?” 

The officer by the room sputtered a nervous affirmation, as though he was terrified of the man in front of him. 

A pregnant pause passed between the two before Deacon cracked a smile and threw his arm around the guy’s neck. “Ahhhhh, this guy!” The officer chuckled along with him and waved Deacon and his prisoner in, shutting the door with a grin.

“What. The. Fuck,” Cherry fumed, wiggling out of his grip. “What the  _ fuck.” _

Deacon shrugged at her and sat down, kicking his feet up on the metal table in front of him. “They think I’m some sort of ‘undercover agent’ that only comes into the station for really awful stuff. The irony of it all is what  _ really  _ makes this disguise fun!”

“No,” she warned before he launched into more nonsense, “What the fuck, is  _ this?” _ Cherry shook her wrists to emphasize the handcuffs, glaring deeply at him.

“Ah, yeah,” he sighed, getting up to remove the cuffs, “I guess I got a little carried away, huh?”

“You think?” She snapped, rubbing her forearms where the metal had chafed. 

Deacon shrugged and flashed a boyish grin at her, “I guess I just got a little too excited that you finally realized that I’m foxy.”

“For the last time, I do not think that you’re--” He wiggled his eyebrows in a way that made her realize that there was no point in arguing. “Listen, can we just talk about the mission?”

Deacon was thrilled that he was winning, and every part of him wanted to keep playing-- but he knew that she was right. They did have a pretty important task to get underfoot. The sexy cop torture could wait. 

“Fine, fine- but we’re not done with this,” he said, gesturing between the two of them, reveling in Cherry’s look of annoyance. “Anyways, it seems that there’s a synth that we helped out, who isn’t doing too great out here. He did the whole memory wipe, face-change song and dance,  _ but  _ apparently being reprogrammed into a Diamond City guard triggered some old Institute memories.”

“ _ Shit,”  _ Cherry sighed, irritation with Deacon immediately melting into concern for the poor soul. She knew what it was like to have an old life overwhelm you and take over your new one. She wouldn’t wish it on her worst enemies. “What can we do to help him?”

“Glad you asked,” he beamed, hopping to his feet, “I was thinking that we could scoop him up and take him over to Goodneighbor… maybe fit him with a new identity that isn’t so- well, in your case, I guess it would be  _ sexy _ … But for our friend, terrifying.”

It was times like this that Cherry sorely missed Aspirin… she would give anything to be able to numb the headache brought on by her partner’s incessant idiocy. Too bad they were stuck in the middle of a post-apocalyptic hellscape. She rubbed her temples and sighed, “alright, let’s go.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Don't forget to comment and kudos!


	4. A Boy Named Charlie

It didn’t take long for them to reach the house where the synth was hiding, but the time it took to convince him to open the door was another question.

“Charlie,” Cherry called after ten minutes of Deacon attempting to joke him into letting them in, “please, I know it seems like you can’t trust anyone, but we just want to help you.”

There was a pause, and then the sound of several locks coming open. The door creaked open just enough that they could see half of their target’s face. 

He was freckled, with sandy blond hair and a look of genuine concern. Cherry’s heart broke for him. Tentatively, she reached out a hand and placed it on the forearm that was holding the door. Charlie started with surprise, but let her hand remain. She gave her best disarming smile and promised: “We’re going to do everything we can to get you some happy memories.”

After that, Charlie invited them in. He explained his situation, lamenting the horror of reliving synth retention and how being a guard was definitely not what he had expected from the mind-reboot. 

“What kind of life did you want?” Cherry asked sincerely. She felt like one of her guidance counselors in high school, prying into the futures of teens that just wanted to think about  _ anything  _ but what they were going to be. However, Charlie perked up at the question and immediately launched into how he had hoped to be a school teacher for younger children.

“I want to help people grow. Not hold them back and punish them for trying to live their own lives.”

Deacon had kept a serious face during the entirety of the conversation; he was a professional when it truly mattered, but after Charlie finished pouring his heart out, any trace of humor faded from Deacon’s body.

“We’re going to help you do that. I promise you, after today, you won’t be afraid anymore.”

Cherry’s chest tightened at the sound of true, empathetic feeling in his voice. It wasn’t something she got to hear from him very often. In all his sarcasm and stupidity, it was difficult for her to remember that Deacon was a part of The Railroad for a reason. He genuinely cared for all of the synths that he met-- he wanted to help them, to make a difference in this world. It warmed her heart to be able to see the part of Deacon that wasn’t all jokes.

And then he caught her staring at him.

His face scrunched up in amused incredulity. “The hell are you looking at me like that for?”

“I was just--” 

But before she could explain herself, Deacon turned to Charlie, gestured with his thumb at Cherry, and said: “don’t mind her, she’s just in love with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Don't forget to comment and kudos!


	5. The Memory Den

“You know, Boss,” Deacon began as they dodged through back alleys on their way to Goodneighbor, “you didn’t have to hit me as hard as you did!” He rubbed his shoulder in faux distress, to further illustrate his point. “Charlie knew I was joking! Didn’t you, Charlie?”

“I-I would prefer not to get involved,” he stuttered in response, eyes darting cautiously at Cherry’s scowl.

She rolled her head towards her partner, fixing him with the look that he knew best as  _ “Deacon, I was not frozen for 200 years to put up with this level of fuckery. Fuck off.” _

He held his hands up in surrender and figured she’d had enough for one day. Besides, Doctor Amari would preoccupy them enough with Charlie’s reboot. They didn’t have time for Deacon to keep this bit up.  _ Tomorrow, on the other hand…  _ He grinned to himself, filling his arsenal with cop jokes that would have Charmer tearing her hair out.

Man, he loved pissing her off. She would get this cute little look on her face where she would try to pretend to be angry, but her smile couldn’t help but break through. Deacon would give a boatload of caps to have that expression commemorated in a painting; if only they hadn’t murdered that psychopath, Pickman, already-- he could have done a lovely rendition.

“Whatever weird, annoying thing you’re concocting right now is going to have to take a back seat, Deacon. We’re here.” Charmer broke his reverie, pointing up at the neon sign that seemed to suck the rest of the light out of the area.

“Goodneighbor.” Deacon beamed, turning to Charlie, “You may not remember, but this disgustingly wonderful cesspool is where you got your whole tortured, handsome cop thing.”

“...handsome?”

Cherry stuck her hand out and smacked the back of her partner’s head before placing it softly on Charlie’s shoulder, “What he’s  _ trying  _ to say, is that this is where we’re going to help you become who you’re supposed to be.”

“Well, Doctor Amari will,” Deacon corrected, clasping the synth’s other shoulder, causing him to startle. “Come on, pal-- you and I are going in first. Our story is going to be that we got a little too drunk after last night’s shift, and now we need the Doc to jog your memory on a missed connection.”

“What about Charmer?” Charlie asked softly.

“I’ll come along in a little while, to avoid suspicion,” she explained, smiling warmly at him. “Don’t worry, Charlie, I’ll be there to see you through this. I promise.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About two hours later, the three of them were crowding the small basement of the Memory Den, explaining to Doctor Amari what had happened to Charlie, and what he hoped she could create for him.

“This is entirely unusual,” she chided. “We do not regularly have synths who have specifics on the personalities and backgrounds they will receive...” The trio stared at her with pleading, puppy-dog eyes, causing her to throw up her hands in exasperation, “I’m not even sure I can tailor-make this specific identity for you!”

“Oh, come on, Doc! If anyone can do it, you can!” Deacon encouraged loudly.

“Actually, I am the  _ only _ one who can do it,” she sighed. “Very well, I will try my best to give our friend the background of a kind school teacher. After I am done, he cannot return to Diamond City, surely you two know that, right?”

“We do,” Cherry affirmed, trying her best to bolster the doctor’s confidence in this mission. “We have a contact just outside of Boston that could use a new elementary teacher, and a runner is all set to pick him up after the procedure. Don’t worry.”

Doctor Amari gave her a look that reminded her that all of them  _ had  _ to worry. They couldn’t afford overconfidence in operations this delicate. Nevertheless, she began to prepare her memory lounger. “If you have any last business with each other, I suggest saying your goodbyes now. He will not remember this section of his life after I am done.”

Cherry grimaced. This was the worst part of her job. She hated having to cut ties with the kind, amazing synths that she met. Not only would they forget her upon receiving new memories, but they usually had to leave the Commonwealth to avoid exposure. She wished that Charlie could be the exception, but there was just no way after he had been so visible in Diamond City. 

She exhaled deeply and walked over to her new friend. “Charlie, I know I’ve only known you for a few hours… but I just wanted to say that you have been one of the kindest souls that I’ve encountered here. I have no doubt that you will do an amazing job, shaping the minds of our future generations.”

Charlie threw his arms around Cherry’s neck and pulled her in for a tight embrace. He then realized what he had done and pulled back almost immediately. “I, uh… sorry for the enthusiasm. I just-- didn’t meet a lot of very nice people after I got my new memories, and this all means a lot to me. Thank you, Charmer--” He flicked his gaze over to her partner “A-and Deacon!”

Deacon shrugged off the fact that he had nearly been forgotten. The synths usually preferred Charmer, anyways. She was much warmer with them; she had a way of showing them that they really _ were _ people, whether or not they were assembled in a lab. It was one of the things that he admired most about her. 

He would try it himself, but hey-- without humor as a defense mechanism, how else would he alienate everyone around him?

He shook off the thought quickly and clasped Charlie on the shoulder for the second time that evening. “Aw shucks, officer. It’s our pleasure to assist the men who wake up every day and put on that uniform… Actually, it’s more  _ Charmer’s  _ pleasure than mine, but you’re one hell of a guy.”

Deacon grabbed Charlie’s confused, uncomfortable hand and shook it with enthusiasm, thanking God that he was wearing sunglasses at that moment, to protect himself from the glare aimed at him from Charmer.

Doctor Amari huffed at the display, having watched the two Railroad agents dance this dance a thousand times. It got old after the first two or so. “If you two are quite finished, I would ask that Charlie come and sit down so I may start the procedure.”

“Goodbye, Charlie,” Cherry said softly, stepping back from her charge.

He smiled sadly at her, before heading over to the memory pod. Once he was situated inside, the lid closing down on him, Charlie looked at his two saviours and waved lightly. “Goodbye.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Don't forget to leave comments and kudos!


	6. The Getaway

“Amari said that you two can stay in one of the spare rooms, upstairs,” Irma said as the two Railroad agents came up the stairs. They stopped at the comment, looking around nervously to make sure that she hadn’t just compromised them to the entirety of the Memory Den. “Relax,” she grinned lazily, bringing her cigarette to her lips, “There’s no one here. The place is closed for ‘maintenance.’”

“Be still, my beating heart... You know, this is why you’ll always be my number one gal, Irma! Always thinking ahead!” Deacon swooned, his shit-eating grin plastered where a suspicious line had been just a second ago.

“Yeah, Yeah,” she replied, not even turning to indulge him, “keep your pants on. Or don’t. But just warning you, sound tends to carry from upstairs something awful.”

The agents simultaneously turned rigid at the insinuation.

Cherry was sure that her face was about as red as her hair in the moment; though she couldn’t help but let her eyes  _ and  _ mind wander to Deacon’s silhouette.  _ Damn, that uniform fits him just as well in the back. Maybe I can get him to handcuff me again… _

She sputtered at the sudden lurid turn of her thoughts. She had kept herself in check all day, but now… with them sharing a room… 

Deacon turned at the sound of her choking on what seemed to be nothing, eyebrows cocked. Then, there was a twinkle in his eye as it began to dawn on him what the outburst was about.

Just as she saw his hand reach for his cuffs and his mouth open to make a smart comment, Cherry blurted out, “Hey! I’m going to go catch up with everyone around town! You should get back to that relaxing that you were doing before I interrupted you, this morning!”

Deacon’s eyes narrowed at her very obvious attempt to leave the situation but figured that if she was  _ that  _ desperate, she wouldn’t be a very good audience, anyways. May as well let her cool off for a couple of hours.

He shrugged nonchalantly and relented, “You know, Boss? You’re right. I could use a little R and R. I’ll meet up with you later.”

Cherry nodded frantically and practically bolted from the room, not turning back to look at her best friend’s face. She only paused once she had shut the doors to the building, leaning against them with a deep groan. She had to get a grip on herself. Better yet, she had to get a grip on how to get back at Deacon for all of this bullshit.

And she knew just the person in Goodneighbor that could help her with both of those things. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Don't forget to comment and kudos!


	7. Revenge Is A Bitch

Deacon whined to himself, tossing down the Shakespeare play he had been reading for the past hour. He had already taken a nap, made himself a snack, and done his daily pretentious task, i.e. the Shakespeare. At this point, he was bored enough that he had almost undone all the relaxing that had happened in the past few hours.

He wasn’t used to being without Charmer for so long. She was usually right by his side, griping and moaning about how he could never take anything seriously, but smiling all the same. She was probably the only person that had actually stuck by him and put up with his crap. It almost made him feel bad for the cop jokes. _Almost._ Deacon just couldn't bring himself to regret any time that he drove Charmer crazy.

And he never allowed himself enough quiet, self-reflection for his mind to prod at why that was. To an outside observer, it would seem as though he was using the playful flirtation to release some of the tension that was clearly under the surface of the relationship. It was also to keep her at arm's length. If he was _too_ open and honest with Charmer, Deacon would tumble down the same path that he had gone down with Barbara; which would open up a can of anxious worms that he couldn't bear... even if it was with someone as amazing and capable as Charmer.

But, instead of pausing to consider all of this, Deacon played it off as just loving the way that she rolled her eyes and huffed his name when he annoyed her... because it was funny... 

Either way, he had taken the whole cop bit far enough. It was best if the bit ended that night.

Deacon sighed and swung himself out of bed. It was high time that he go and find his partner to smooth things over. Well… to let her know that he was going to smooth things over tomorrow, so she might as well put up with his jokes for the remainder of the evening.

He exited the Memory Den and took a deep inhale of Goodneighbor’s night air, and immediately regretted it. The stench of sewer mixed with stale cigarettes and alcohol-induced vomit was truly the worst air freshener he could imagine, and the whole town was filled with it.

A town guard noticed the disgust on Deacon’s face and sneered. “What? Our town not clean enough for ya, city boy?”

“Oh, no,” he bit back immediately, “I actually wish it was dirtier-- you should do something about that! Maybe add a few more old toilets filled with mystery sludge!” The guard scowled at him and tapped his bat against his palm in a way that told Deacon that he did not find him as charming as his partner did. He shrugged nonchalantly and walked around the guard, facing him for as long as he could. “No? Well shucks. Guess I’ll just go get a drink and wash down the hopes of my city planning career.”

Just as the guard started towards him in earnest, Deacon ducked around the corner and into the Third Rail, huffing with relief when the heavy door swung shut behind him.

Charmer was bound to have made her way to the bar in the few hours she had to herself. Goodneighbor wasn’t exactly brimming with a diverse palate of community events, and he knew that she could only stand to hang around Hancock’s drug gang for so long.

He pushed himself off of the door and nodded to Ham, before starting down the stairs. She would probably be hanging out by herself, at the bar, with MacCready up in Sanctuary and Magnolia most likely on stage.

Charmer had made a few friends in Goodneighbor, as she did everywhere she went. But, most of the people weren’t exactly her _type_. She would catch up with them and make sure that they were okay, but with the crime and vulgarity, she didn’t spend much time with them outside of those interactions.

It wasn’t that Charmer wasn’t _fun_ per se-- she had sarcasm and prankster streaks a mile long, mixed with some alcohol-driven bouts of adventure. She just was a bit too buttoned up to cut loose with these people… or anyone she hadn’t known for at least three months.

He turned down the second set of stairs and began scanning the bar as he descended.

She wasn’t in her regular spot, and Magnolia wasn’t performing either. Maybe they were somewhere else, catching up where they wouldn’t be harassed by drunk patrons.

Deacon began to turn around and head back out, and then he heard her. The distinct laugh Charmer had when she was two drinks in and feeling flirty.

He scanned the bar once again, and his jaw nearly dropped. He had found his partner. She was in the back of the bar, in a large booth that was very romantically lit. She and Magnolia and what could only be described as a gaggle of men, were all laughing and drinking, and, as he had noted correctly, flirting.

But that wasn’t the most shocking part of the scene. Not by a long shot.

Deacon stepped a few stairs lower to make sure that he wasn’t hallucinating, and gave Charmer much more than a once-over.

She wasn’t in her regular vault suit and armor. Her general hat had been removed, her glasses were missing, and her Pipboy was nowhere to be found.

Instead, she was in a short, _tight_ red dress that was just a bit more bright of a shade than her own hair. Speaking of which, her hair looked as though she had been able to get ahold of a working curling iron and hairspray to give it a sexy, voluminous touch.

Deacon was having difficulty processing what he was seeing, but he made a note to ask her exactly how she did that after he figured out what the hell was happening.

As he approached the group, he could see that she had managed to do her makeup, as well. Dark, smokey eyes with eyeliner so sharp it could cut a man. And her lips… _Oh God, her lips..._ were as red as her dress and as thick as the lump that was forming in Deacon’s throat.

He had always found her to be exceptionally beautiful, but she was always covered in dirt and blood, or a vault suit, or lounge pants and a t-shirt on her days off. She practically  _never_ dressed up, which made no sense to him because she was an absolute knockout.

A knockout he had pissed off and sent to get drunk with the grimy men around town. _Great._

The annoying part of his brain pointed out that he was only irritated by the situation because he wasn’t on the receiving end, but he pushed that down to compartmentalize later. It didn’t mean anything. It was just that she had dolled herself up, and he hadn’t had her audience in a few hours. It wasn’t anything else.

But then again, when one of the men put his hand below the table, causing Charmer to bat it away playfully and giggle, something inside Deacon drove him forward.

“Excuse me ma’am, but I need to have a word with you.”

The conversation stopped immediately,  the patrons shocked to have an interruption to their merriment. But Charmer didn’t seem surprised. Where her companions showed disgust at Deacon’s arrival, her slow head turn and the wicked flick of her gaze told him that she had been waiting for this moment. He could tell from the way her eyes met his. She had _planned_ this getup. _That little minx._

“Ma’am?” She began slowly, pouting as the word left her lips, staring down as though she had been deeply hurt. Then with a molasses grin, she continued in a voice that sent a shiver through him. “You’re awful to say such a thing. How old do you think I am, officer?”

“Not a day over twenty-five, _miss.”_ He smirked back.

“Why sir, you flatter me,” she purred, “but I’m afraid that I’m not one for leaving with strange men that I meet in a bar. Even if they are as handsome as you.” She paused to give him a look over to emphasize her point, winking as she looked back up at him. “However, if you sat down and got to know me… well, that’s another story.”

Magnolia’s amused expression indicated that not only did she recognize Deacon, but that she was _in_ on this little revenge ploy. The men, on the other hand, were a cross between hurt at her extended invitation and livid that a cop had approached them.

He weighed his options quickly, wanting more than anything to be done with this little game so that Charmer would turn off her inescapable seduction ray. But, on the other hand… Deacon never backed down from a challenge, and he _loved_ pulling the wool over locals’ eyes.

“Alright, I have a few moments to spare. But after that, you and I are heading back to Diamond City to _talk._ ”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Don't forget to comment and kudos!


	8. Friends Don't Seduce Their Friends

Charmer smiled softly before turning to the greasy man next to her and whispering in his ear. He shivered at the contact and gave her a longing stare full of protest, but relented nonetheless. With a shove out of the booth, he scowled at Deacon and stood to the side, waiting for him to take the coveted spot at her side.

“Charlie?” Charmer called to the bartender, “can you bring our new friend something strong? He looks like he needs to unwind.”

“Trying to lower my inhibitions?” Deacon teased, watching as the modified Mr. Handy readied a heavy glass of dark liquid and brought it to the table.

“Inhibitions, stress levels… pants, if you’re lucky,” she shot back with a wink.

She was _good._ A little too good for Deacon’s current comfort level, but it made things that much more interesting. “I’ve been told that I am a _very_ lucky man,” He swirled his drink coyly, looking down at her through his sunglasses. “That’s why I became a cop.”

“Speakin’ uh which,” one of the forgotten men piped up, “Ain’t there someplace closer to Diamond City that you fancy lawmen like to go to?”

It didn’t take a master spy like Deacon to tell that this man was trying to get rid of him. He was a mysterious, rule-following stranger that had just waltzed up and grabbed the attention of the most captivating woman in the room. If Deacon was in his place… which he was, he would be doing anything to get the guy out of there. Which... he also was.

He took a moment to stare the guy down before taking a sip of what he deduced to be whiskey and breaking into a wolfish grin. “There is. But the ladies there aren’t even in the ballpark of the breathtaking ones we have in our company.”

“My, my, we’ve got ourselves a charmer, here!” Magnolia approved, knocking her arm against her female compatriot. “He might even be a match for you, Cherry.”

“No one’s a match for me,” she declared, raising her glass with a good-natured laugh. Her original companions joined in, cheering in approval of her confidence. But not Deacon. He was silent, thinking, calculating whether or not his next move would have any weight.

“ _Cherry,”_ Deacon tested, slowly, seductively, “what a unique name.”

Cherry paused warmth pooling in her stomach at the sound that had just left his lips. Unfortunately, her shock left her open, and let him see just far enough to know that his test had succeeded. Deacon smirked at her and raised his own glass in a private toast. _Your move, partner._

He had never said her name before… much less _like that._ It made her want to lean into his side and make him say it again… and again… and _again_. But she couldn’t get caught up in that kind of thinking, and she sure as hell couldn’t let him gain the upper hand with this one. Cherry took one more measured swig of her whiskey, raising her hand for Charlie to bring her another, before turning back to Deacon and making her move.

“It’s vintage. They used to give it to good girls who were sweet, like me.”

Deacon shook his head slowly and slid his arms around her shoulders, reveling in her shiver as he leaned in close. “Miss Cherry, I think we both know that if you were a good girl, I wouldn’t be trying to take you down to the station.”

Cherry weighed her options. He had taken a pretty big stab in the dark with her name, but Deacon already had the advantage from earlier in the day. She couldn’t afford to be wrong with her next play. Cherry had to dig deep and think about Deacon’s tells. He didn’t think he had any, but she had spent enough time with him to gather bits and pieces of the real man underneath the disguise. And then she had it.

Physical affection.

Deacon shied away from it whenever he could. Cherry had always known that it was a defense mechanism, but she had assumed that it was because of his wife. But now that she thought about it, maybe it was because he liked it a little _too_ much. It gave a new light to all the nights that he huffed and puffed about them sharing a bed and then pulled her close “for warmth.”

With a hopeful theory and a little bit of curiosity, Cherry leaned into his side and sighed softly in his ear. “Maybe I’m not good. But I sure am _sweet.”_

Deacon startled as she slid her hand up his thigh and nipped at his ear. But instead of immediately shrugging her off, he melted into the contact. His legs relaxed apart and a soft exhale escaped his lips as she slid her hand back down and squeezed his knee.

He kicked himself for allowing her to see behind the curtain with that reaction, but good _lord,_ it was such a turn on to have her stroking his thigh. Normally he would have been able to keep that fact to himself, but it had been a long time since he had been in this situation with someone this attractive. Not to mention that the sudden arousal he felt from her hands on him was clouding both his objective and his judgment.

Cherry grinned against his ear as she slid her fingers along his leg, once again, and whispered so that only he could hear, “so much for not being touchy-feely.”

Deacon cleared his throat and turned his head, lips a breath away from her’s. He knew that they were making a scene at the table; he _knew_ that they were playing fast and loose with their covers, and he knew that they were taking it further than they should. But he just couldn’t keep himself from egging Charmer on. “I said that I wasn’t a hugger. I never said anything about this. _This_ , you can keep doing, _Cherry.”_

Cherry felt a thrill shoot through her. Though her conscience told her that she was in dangerous territory, her body took the reigns.

She began to run her fingers along the tops of his thighs, dipping to the side when she was just close enough to tease him. His mind was screaming for him to stop her before she stroked a little _too_ far and felt how into this game he had gotten; but then there was the small, evil thought that wanted her to know. Deacon shuddered, letting his hand fall to her waist, tightening his grip so she was even closer than before.

“Be careful, _officer,_ you’re slipping,” She purred, determined to keep the upper hand. But some part of her acknowledged that she was slipping, too. She had been pushing it down all day, but right now, with alcohol streaming through her veins and her partner this close… Cherry was having a hard time remembering why she had been so annoyed with him earlier.

She swallowed thickly, hoping her expression wasn’t giving too much away, and tested her boundaries. “If you keep holding me like this, I might think that this little game has become real.”

Deacon’s voice was huskier, almost lustful as he breathed back: “And what if it has?”

Cherry’s coy smile died on her lips. She hadn’t expected him to take the bait. Deacon _never_ revealed his hand, but the electric chemistry between them wasn’t something even he could fabricate.

She scanned the table quickly, checking to see if any of the men had noticed anything off about their flirtation, but they had seemingly lost interest as soon as Deacon had captured her full attention. And then she caught Magnolia’s knowing glance.

Her friend’s expression said _you won, tiger. Go collect your trophy._ And it was all she needed to slip off the fence she was straddling. This game had clearly gotten away from them, but damn it if she wasn’t going to take advantage of the chink in both of their defenses.

Cherry picked up her glass and held it out for Deacon to knock his against it. Then they both finished their whiskeys before she turned back to him and said loud enough for the table to hear: “I’m bored. I think it’s high time you take me out of here, officer.”

Deacon took a deep breath to steel his nerves. This wasn’t how he pictured them making their exit, but he supposed that the game had to end one way or another. And _this_ was a pretty good outcome, after all.

He gave her a small chin jerk that only she would recognize as not part of his character and smirked. “With pleasure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Don't forget to comment and kudos!


	9. The Woman out of Time and The Mournful Sinner- Fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the fluff ending for the fic! If you want the smut ending, skip to chapter 10!
> 
> (Full disclosure, the chapters are exactly the same, but with a few details altered and some adult fun tossed into the mix).

They left quickly after their last salacious exchange, covering their tracks with:

“Oh, darling, I’ve just remembered that I have a bill to settle at the Memory Den. Would you mind, terribly, if we take care of it before heading out?”

“Of course, sweetheart. But after that, you’re _mine.”_

The men at the table looked uncomfortable and disappointed that none of them would be taking Cherry home; Magnolia, on the other hand, was smiling smugly behind her cigarette, satisfied that her plan had worked.

Cherry gave her a silent _thanks for your help_ before she and her partner slipped up the stairs and into the night.

Deacon kept a steady hand on Cherry’s waist as they headed across the street. The residents of Goodneighbor gave them a few sideways glances, but shrugged it off. They may have seemed like a strange pair, but surely no stranger than anyone else in town.

In fact, Deacon figured that without the mismatched outfits, they made a pretty handsome couple. It even sent a thrill through him just thinking about it.

He winced. That wasn’t a good development.

A little flirting was harmless, sure. They had great chemistry and got on well; it was natural that they would be playful. But this… this wasn’t little or playful. This was the big leagues, and Deacon wasn’t sure he was ready to be _that_ open and honest with someone.

Even if it was the closest friend he’d had since Barbara.

The entire purpose of going to find her was to preserve their friendship- and it had totally gotten away from him. Deacon let himself get caught up in the moment, and now they were headed back to their _shared_ room to conclude the game they had been playing all day. He absolutely hated that that prospect filled him with adolescent excitement.

Stepping through the doors, he noted that the warm air of the Memory Den didn’t help with this internal struggle, either. He had been overheating from the flirting, the whiskey, and the panic. Not to mention that it was damn hot in the guard uniform. The stupid guard uniform. The one that began all of this stupid flirtatious bullshit. Well… technically _he_ was the one who started it, but still.

They made their way upstairs and to their room as inconspicuously as possible; Deacon attempting to keep his cool as much as he could.

Charmer, on the other hand, seemed to still be under a flirtatious haze of alcohol… which meant that she still fully expected to go into that room and play Bad Cop, Sexy Cop with him.

He groaned inwardly at the loud majority of him that wanted nothing more than to burst through the door, throw her on the bed, and ravage her. It was the same part of him that spoke at the bar, egging her on as she seduced him. And how could he not let that part get the better of him? She was enticing and beautiful and everything he wanted in a woman.

But there was still the quieter, more pragmatic section of his mind that always seemed to win in these situations. The one that reminded him of what happens when he let people get close to him; when he let his true feelings show and let his guard down. It wasn’t worth the pain or suffering that came when it inevitably bit him in the ass. It was better to play pretend and keep people at arms’ length.

“Deacon?” Charmer probed, breaking him out of his reverie.

He hadn’t even realized that they had entered the room, much less that he was now sitting on the bed. His partner stood by the door that she had just closed; smoky eyes watching him with cautious concern.

 _Shit._ It was time to back out of this game-- time to disappoint her after all the buildup and promise of the day. But the hurt he was about to cause was just going to have to be set aside to repress later. Right now, he had to cut this off at the knees and slip back into his least favorite character: himself.

“Well, boss- I’d say that was one hell of a match we played. You really had everyone at that table wrapped around your finger! You even had me going for a while, there-- but, ultimately, nothing gets by this long arm of the law! I had you pegged the moment that you started jokingly getting handsy with me.”

He finished his spiel with a big, campy flourish to emphasize the mood break. But instead of the eye roll and silent treatment Charmer usually reserved for when he really fucked up, she just fixed him with a sad smile.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“Do what? I’m just complimenting you on a very convincing role!”

Cherry just shook her head and walked over, taking a seat next to him. She fixed him with a long, flat stare that seemed to both be devoid and full of emotion at the same time. Then, she exhaled deeply and stared at the floor.

“I never expected you to go through with any of it,” she said after a moment, her voice sounding as strange has her gaze. “I know better than to take you seriously when you’re in character. Besides, we’ve been traveling together long enough for me to realize that you’re not interested in that sort of relationship with me.”

Deacon inwardly cringed as he recognized the nameless emotion. It was the same resigned disappointment that came after he had let someone down for the millionth time with his backpedaling and wall-building. It was a reaction that he knew well… and it was one that he had never wanted to bring out in Charmer.

These were the times that he truly wished he could just pop a Stealth Boy and disappear into the night. But he owed her more than that. He practically owed her the world at this point… but the best he could do right now was offer her the pathetic truth.

Deacon rubbed the back of his neck and sighed with exasperation. Then, he did something extremely rare, something he only did when he was giving her his complete trust and honesty. He took off his sunglasses and looked her in the eye.

“Look-- it’s not… it’s not that I don’t _want_ to go there with you. I mean, look at you!” He gestured to her in her entirety, “You’re absolutely breathtaking, and funny, and my best friend.”

A faint blush touched Charmer’s cheeks and she playfully knocked her knee against his. Deacon returned her soft smile and placed his hand on her thigh, squeezing it lightly. This whole honesty thing was a bitch when she was just pissed at him, but her kind, understanding gaze made it almost impossible to get the disappointing words out.

“It’s not even Dez’s whole fraternization policy. I mean, the whole lot of them, _including_ Dez have done some dirty dancing in their day, so they have no room to criticize… But...”

“But?”

“I’m me, and you’re you. You deserve much more than a reformed bigot who can’t tell the truth to save his life.” Deacon finished with a frustrated shrug, struggling to keep his blasé demeanor in the face of such an impossibly difficult confession.

“That’s bullshit.”

His head snapped up at the indignance that suddenly colored Charmer’s voice. She was glaring at him, leaning back as she crossed her arms angrily in front of her chest.

“Deacon, you trusted me enough to tell me about your past. You trust me enough to betray my _son_ and take down the Institute! So why can’t you trust me to make up my own mind about what I want from you?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing clever came out. Nothing came out _at all._ For the first time in a _long_ time, Deacon was speechless. All he could do was sit in astonished silence at Charmer’s practical confession of feelings, considering what an idiot he was, is, and probably will always be.

Little by little, Cherry’s expression thawed from indignant to soft and earnest. With a reciprocated placement of her hand on his thigh, Cherry continued her speech in a heartfelt tone, “Deacon... you are my best friend. I love you dearly. Your past does not define the empathetic, compassionate, hilarious man that you are today. You have done more for the synths and for me than you can ever imagine…. _and_ you’re pretty fucking handsome,” she added with a playful waggle of her eyebrows before continuing with complete sincerity, “And there is no doubt in my mind that not only do I want you… I would be _lucky_ to have you.”

With that, Deacon stole forward suddenly and pressed his lips to hers.

Cherry made a surprised noise deep in her throat at the rapid change in atmosphere. But she quickly melted into the kiss, her body recognizing how starved it had been for something like this; for his touch, for romance… for _him_.

Deacon seemed to be having a similar reaction. One of his hands reached up to tangle in her hair, while the other cupped her cheek. His lips seemed almost desperate for her, pleading for this moment to be real. And it was _real._ It was like the climax of your favorite movie, or the feeling of watching someone open a gift that you knew they would like… It was everything she had imagined it would be, and she had pictured this moment more times than she cared to admit.

Cherry pressed deeper into the kiss, into _him,_ sliding them back on the bed until they were laying down, pressed together and tangled in their embrace. She licked into his mouth with a soft moan, committing every inch of it to memory. This mouth had lied to her a thousand times, made her laugh a thousand more, and in that moment, it was the sweetest thing that she had tasted since her world had ended.

The fingers that had busied themselves with her hair and face slipped down, sliding past her chest and taking their favorite place at her waist. Deacon kept a tight grip on her and shifted, pressing a knee between her legs, so he lying halfway on top of her and the bed.

With the security of the position, his kisses began to lose steam; they became softer, almost languid as he began to realize that this wasn’t some sort of fever dream. He was actually there, finally allowing himself to have something he wanted. And _God almighty_ , did he want her.

Deacon moved away from her lips and began to leave a trail of slow, searing kisses along her jaw and throat. Cherry gasped out a laugh at the sensation, and writhed underneath him, her hands flying up to grasp his shoulder and cradle the back of his head. She felt him smile against her skin at the reaction, something she was sure that he would bring up later, gloating that he had figured out one of her turn-ons so quickly. But she didn’t care. Not when they were together like this.

After a long while, Deacon pulled back to gaze down at her, eyes half-lidded with comfort and lust. Both of their hearts were pounding against each others’ chest with what had just happened; as well as the anticipation of what would come next. It was thrilling… and it was also extremely terrifying. Neither of them had done or _felt_ anything like this in a very long time. And jumping into it with one another was more than just a dabble. It would be jumping straight into the deep end, risking everything they built-- that they fought for, just for a chance to find happiness. But in that room, in that moment, eye contact betraying the feelings that they had been holding back for quite some time; it was clear that they were willing to take that leap, together.

He decided that he had to do something, _say_ something before the walls came back up and made it impossible for him to make any sort of jump. Deacon smoothed his thumb gently across her lips and pressed one more, long, tender kiss to them, before pulling back once again and whispering, “Charmer… Cherry, I--”

There was a knock at the door.

They both froze, heads snapping towards the sound. They waited one moment, two, waiting to see if they had imagined the interruption.

The knock sounded once again, followed by a tentative: “Hello? Is anyone in there?”

It was Charlie, Cherry recognized, though his voice sounded a bit different... more self-assured than it had before.

The mind reboot must have helped in removing the fear that he had been petrified with. _Thank God for small miracles,_ she thought, albeit slightly annoyed due to the poor timing this new confidence had inspired in their friend.

She looked back up at Deacon with a grimace, silently asking whether or not they should answer the door. He seemed torn, groaning quietly as duty and _want_ battled within his body; but ultimately he cocked his head back in resigned responsibility and decided that they needed to answer Charlie's call. Deacon rolled off of Charmer and onto the bed with a petulant huff as his back hit the mattress.

Cherry gave him an amused smile and ruffled his hair before standing up. “Just a minute!” She called, adjusting her dress and fixing her lipstick in the small compact she had with her. Her hair was a mess, but with the quick work of a hair tie, she pulled it back into a bun that mismatched her look, but would ultimately have to work for the pinch they were in.

With one more smoothing motion over her dress, Cherry swung open the door, smiling at the man she was always happy to see, even at this inconvenient moment.

“Hi, I’m Simon,” he began, with a semi-concerned look on his face, “Doctor Amari told me that I had a surgery of some sort, and I would have some memory loss from right before the procedure… she mentioned that there were people upstairs that would be taking me home, tomorrow, and I couldn’t sleep, so… I came here.”

He finished blurting out his monologue and paused to take a breath, finally taking in the scene before him. Cherry was doing her best to control her breathing, still heavily made up and in a dress that was weirdly out of place for hanging out in a bedroom. But what _really_ seemed to shock him was the sight he saw behind her.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stuttered, eyes snapping rapidly back to hers, “...did I come at a bad time?”

Cherry’s polite smile faded at the question, and she quickly swiveled her body to see what horrifying detail she could have missed before answering the door. And of course, as usual, it wasn’t her fault at all…. it was Deacon’s.

He was lying against the headboard with his arms casually tucked behind his head. The rest of his body was underneath the covers, _still_ in his full guard uniform. He had also replaced his glasses and was beaming at the two of them with a wide, lipstick-covered smile.

Cherry felt her eyes nearly pop out of her head, and she spun on her heel to offer their charge a stammered explanation. “No! No! This isn’t a bad time! Just let me get into something more comfortable-- CASUAL! I mean, I will change into something casual, and I will meet you downstairs to answer any questions you might have.”

“Okay…” he confirmed uncomfortably, and with one more glance at Deacon, he left their doorway as fast as he could.

Cherry shut the door as soon as he had left the frame, both hands held against it, far above where she was hanging her head in mortification. She remained glued in that position for a long while-- that is, until Deacon made the mistake of audibly snickering behind her.

“You _jackass!_ ” Cherry burst out in a hushed accusation, spinning around and throwing her her arms out for emphasis.

Deacon simply shot back an even wider, shit-eating grin and tossed back the covers, bouncing out of their bed. “Well, I’d say that we made a fantastic first impression on School Teacher Simon! I’m sure he will be completely at ease traveling with us tomorrow!”

He waited for some sort of reaction to that, but Charmer remained frozen in her incredulity. Deacon shrugged nonchalantly at that and waltzed towards the door, reaching out to open it. A light, yet stern smack reached his hand in response, and he pulled it away in mock betrayal, rubbing it like Charmer had poured boiling water on it.

“You are not coming with me down there, Officer Idiot” she scolded his guilty-puppy expression, pointing her finger in his face.

“Oh come on!” Deacon protested, holding his hands up in a disarming fashion when she narrowed her eyes and took a step towards him, “I think I was his favorite out of that interaction! And besides… I wasn’t the one who accidentally hit on him.”

Her jaw dropped in offense, but her scowl rapidly devolved into laughter at the idiocy of the exchange. “Thank God he’s leaving the Commonwealth, otherwise Dez would tear us a new one when he eventually let slip what he saw.”

Deacon nodded enthusiastically in agreement and reached out to pull his still giggling partner in for an apologetic embrace. Their laughter died away as they held each other; the embrace reminding them of the one that had been interrupted just minutes before. The magic of the moment may have been broken, but there was no going back from the step that they had taken that night.

Deacon felt like a complete moron for dodging his feelings for so long; he hadn’t thought that he deserved this kind of happiness. But now... everything was different. It took this strange and goofy day for Deacon to realize that Cherry was pretty much the most important thing to him in the entire Wasteland. Sure, there was the Railroad and the synths… but everything paled in comparison when he thought about her. Cherry needed to know how much he cared. No jokes, no running… just honesty.

He rested his cheek on top of her head and exhaled deeply. _Damn it, Deacon. You can do this._

“Hey, Cherry?” Deacon began, cursing the nervous caution that touched his words.

Her amused chuffing stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice, picking up that the vibe of their conversation had changed yet again. Normally, she would step back to look him in the eyes when he became serious, but somehow she sensed that this would be difficult for him to say; so she remained, arms wrapped tightly around his waist. “Yeah, Deacon?”

A minute passed before he continued, prompting his words with a nervous puff of air and a small chuckle.

“I love you.”

Deacon felt Cherry’s shocked exhale against his chest, like she had been socked in the stomach. He wasn’t sure how he expected her to react to what was just said. They had started the day off as friends, joking and annoying each other, and now…. Now Deacon was letting every honest feeling he had around Cherry, slip out, and he was laying them all down for her to see.  

Silence settled over the room as he waited for her to say something. He counted to about thirty before he could feel her breathing again. _Well, that’s a good sign._ A few more moments of stunned quiet, and then, Cherry pulled back and looked up at him.

Slowly, deliberately, she reached up to remove his glasses to study his face. After what seemed to be an eternity on Deacon’s end, she stepped up onto her toes and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, whispering her words like they had been inscribed in her soul.

“I love you too, Deacon.”

It felt like an elephant had been lifted from his chest, and by the look of giddy relief on Cherry’s face, she felt the same way. The two of them remained looking into each other’s eyes, the weight of the broken world around them, fading with the complete trust and connection they had finally found in each other. Then, the overwhelming emotion of it all caused Cherry to begin laughing. Hiccuping, childlike laughter that leaped to Deacon, leaving them on the verge of tears.

When things calmed after awhile, Cherry carefully extracted herself from Deacon’s grip, stepping towards the door with a devilish expression.

“This doesn’t mean that you get to come with me to talk to Simon,” she stated as fact, face full of playful snark. And before Deacon could react or protest, she stuck her tongue out and bounded out of the room.

“Now, that’s low!” he called after her, mock betrayal coloring his tone.  “...You also forgot to change!”

Deacon shook his head at the incredulity of the evening, finding himself happier than he had been in years; he could barely contain his own laughter with the immense feeling in his chest.

And then, surprisingly, Cherry ran back into the room, and threw her arms around Deacon’s neck, placing a big kiss on his lips. “I left it on because we were in the middle of using it when Simon showed up,” She explained with a smirk, “I’ll be back soon… and do me a favor… don’t change out of that uniform.”

Cherry winked at him mischievously and slipped back out of the room, leaving him to lie in wait for the renewed promise of the evening.

_Thank God for weird cop fetishes, huh?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please comment and kudos!!!!


	10. The Woman out of Time and the Mournful Sinner- Smut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the smut ending for the fic! If you want the smut ending, skip back to chapter 9!
> 
> (Full disclosure, the chapters are exactly the same, but with a few details altered and some adult fun tossed into the mix).

They left fairly quickly after their last salacious exchange, covering their tracks with:

“Oh, darling, I’ve just remembered that I have a bill to settle at the Memory Den. Would you mind terribly, if we take care of it before heading out?”

“Of course, sweetheart. But after that, you’re _mine.”_

The men at the table looked uncomfortable and disappointed that none of them would be taking Cherry home; Magnolia, on the other hand, was smiling coyly behind her cigarette, satisfied that her plan had worked.

Cherry gave her a silent _thanks for your help_ before she and her partner slipped up the stairs and into the night.

Deacon kept a steady hand on Cherry’s waist as they headed across the street. The residents of Goodneighbor gave them a few sideways glances, but shrugged it off. Sure they seemed like a strange pair, but surely no more strange than anyone else in town.

In fact, Deacon figured that without the mismatched outfits, they made a pretty handsome couple. It even sent a thrill through him just thinking about it.

He winced. That wasn’t a good development.

A little flirting was harmless, sure. They had great chemistry and got on well; it was natural that they would be playful. But this… this wasn’t little or playful. This was the big leagues, and Deacon wasn’t sure he was ready to be _that_ open and honest with someone.

Even if it was the closest friend he’d had since Barbara.

The entire purpose of going to find her was to preserve their friendship- and it had totally gotten away from him. Deacon let himself get caught up in the moment, and now they were headed back to their _shared_ room to conclude the game they had been playing all day. He absolutely hated that that prospect filled him with adolescent excitement.

Stepping through the doors, he noted that the warm air of the Memory Den didn’t help with this internal struggle, either. He had been overheating from the flirting, the whiskey, and the panic. Not to mention that it was damn hot in the guard uniform. The stupid guard uniform. The one that began all of this stupid flirtatious bullcrap. Well… technically _he_ was the one who started it, but still.

They made their way upstairs and to their room as inconspicuous as possible; Deacon attempting to keep his cool as much as he could.

Charmer, on the other hand, seemed to still be under a flirtatious haze of alcohol… which meant that she still fully expected to go into that room and play Bad Cop, Sexy Cop with him.

He groaned inwardly at how uncomfortably tight his pants felt at that concept. The loud majority of him wanted nothing more than to burst through the door, throw her on the bed, and ravage her. It was the same part of him that spoke at the bar, egging her on as she seduced him. And how could he not let that part get the better of him? She was enticing and beautiful and everything he wanted in a woman.

But there was still the quieter, more pragmatic section of his mind that always seemed to win in these situations. The one that reminded him of what happens when he let people get close to him; when he let his true feelings show and let his guard down. It wasn’t worth the pain or suffering that came when it inevitably bit him in the ass. It was better to play pretend and keep people at arms’ length.

“Deacon?” Charmer probed, breaking him out of his reverie.

He hadn’t even realized that they had entered the room, much less that he was now sitting on the bed. His partner stood by the door that she had just closed; gorgeous eyes watching him with cautious concern.

 _Shit._ It was time to back out of this game-- time to disappoint her after all the buildup and promise of the day. But the hurt he was about to cause was just going to have to be set aside to repress later. Right now, he had to cut this off at the knees and slip back into his least favorite character: himself.

“Well, boss-- I’d say that was one hell of a match we played. You really had everyone at that table wrapped around your finger! You even had me going for a while, there-- but, ultimately, nothing gets by this long arm of the law! I had you pegged the moment that you started jokingly getting handsy with me.”

He finished his spiel with a big, campy flourish to emphasize the mood break. But instead of the eye roll and silent treatment Charmer usually reserved for when he really fucked up, she just fixed him with a sad smile.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“Do what? I’m just complimenting you on a very convincing role!”

She shook her head and walked over, taking a seat next to him. She saddled him with a long, flat stare that seemed to both be devoid of emotion and chalk full it at the same time. Then, she exhaled deeply and stared at the floor.

“I never expected you to go through with any of it,” she said after a moment, her voice sounding as strange has her gaze had been. “I know better than to take you seriously when you’re in character. Besides, we’ve been traveling together long enough for me to realize that you’re not interested in that sort of relationship with me.”

Deacon cringed as he recognized the nameless emotion she was displaying. It was the same resigned disappointment that came after he had let someone down for the millionth time with his backpedaling and wall-building. It was a reaction that he knew well… and it was one that he had never wanted to bring out in Charmer.

These were the times that he truly wished he could just pop a Stealth Boy and disappear into the night. But he owed her more than that. He practically owed her the world at this point… but the best he could do right now was offer her the pathetic truth.

Deacon rubbed the back of his neck and sighed with exasperation. Then, he did something extremely rare, something he only did when he was giving her his complete trust and honesty. He took off his sunglasses and looked her in the eye.

“Look-- it’s not… it’s not that I don’t _want_ to go there with you. I mean, look at you!” He gestured to her in her entirety, “You’re absolutely breathtaking, and funny, and my best friend.”

A slight blush touched Charmer’s cheeks and she playfully knocked her knee against his. Deacon returned her soft smile and placed his hand on her thigh, squeezing it lightly. This whole honesty thing was a bitch when she was pissed at him, but with her kind, understanding gaze, it was almost impossible to get the disappointing words out.

“It’s not even Dez’s whole fraternization policy. I mean, the whole lot of them, _including_ Dez have done some dirty dancing in their day, so they have no room to criticize. But...”

“But?”

“I’m me, and you’re you. You deserve much more than a reformed bigot who can’t tell the truth to save his life,” Deacon finished with a frustrated shrug, struggling to keep his blasé demeanor in the face of such an impossibly difficult confession.

“That’s bullshit.”

His head snapped up at the indignance that suddenly colored Charmer’s voice. She was glaring at him, leaning back as she crossed her arms angrily in front of her chest.

“Deacon, you trusted me enough to tell me about your past. You trust me enough to betray my own _son_ and take down the Institute! So why can’t you trust me to make up my own mind about what I want from you?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing clever came out. Nothing came out _at all._ For the first time in a _long_ time, Deacon was speechless. All he could do was sit in astonished silence at Charmer’s practical confession of feelings and think about what an idiot he was, is, and probably will always be.

Little by little, Cherry’s expression thawed from indignant to soft and earnest. With a reciprocated placement of her hand on his thigh, Cherry continued her speech in a heartfelt tone, “Deacon... you are my best friend. I love you dearly. Your past does not define the empathetic, compassionate, hilarious man that you are today. You have done more for the synths and for me than you can ever imagine…. _and_ you’re pretty fucking handsome,” she added with a playful waggle of her eyebrows before continuing with complete sincerity, “And there is no doubt in my mind that not only do I want you… I would be _lucky_ to have you.”

With that, Deacon stole forward suddenly and pressed his lips to hers.

Cherry made a surprised noise deep in her throat at the sudden change in atmosphere. But she quickly melted into the kiss, her body recognizing how starved it had been for something like this; for his touch, for romance… for _him_.

Deacon seemed to be having a similar reaction. One of his hands reached up to tangle in her hair, while the other cupped her cheek. His lips seemed almost desperate for her, pleading for this moment to be real. And it _was_ real _._ It was like the climax of a favorite movie, or the feeling of watching someone open a gift that you knew they would like… It was everything she had imagined it would be, and she had pictured this moment more times than she cared to admit.

Cherry pressed deeper into the kiss, into _him,_ sliding them back on the bed until they were laying down, pressed together and tangled in a tight embrace. She licked into his mouth with a soft moan, committing every inch of it to memory. This mouth had lied to her a thousand times, made her laugh a thousand more, and in that moment, it was the sweetest thing that she had tasted since her world had ended.

The fingers that had busied themselves with her hair and face slipped down, swiping past her chest and taking their favorite place at her waist. Deacon kept a tight grip on her and shifted, pressing a knee between her legs, so he lying halfway on top of her and the bed with his arousal pressed flush against her stomach.

With the security of the position, his kisses began to lose steam; they became softer, almost languid as he began to realize that this wasn’t some sort of fever dream. He was actually there, finally allowing himself to have something he wanted. And _God almighty_ , did he want her.

Deacon moved away from her lips and began to leave a trail of slow, searing kisses along her jaw and throat. Cherry gasped out a laugh at the sensation and writhed underneath him, her hands flying up to grasp his shoulder and cradle the back of his head. She felt him smile against her skin at the reaction, something she was sure that he would bring up later, gloating that he had figured out one of her turn-ons so quickly. But she didn’t care. Not when they were together like this.

Cherry stopped him then, pushing him back so he could see her next move. “Deacon…” She began, reaching behind her to undo the dress’ zipper, “I want this… I want _you._ ” She slid the unzipped dress down her shoulders and shimmied it off of her body.

Deacon stared down at the figure that he had imagined a million times, hungrily soaking in every last curve, swell, and marked area. She had taut muscles under a layer of smooth prewar cushion. Her body had a softness to it that those born after the war didn’t have, and it was mesmerizing.

However, even enraptured by her form, it still took every ounce of strength he had not to make a stupid joke about her not wearing any underwear. It would be hilarious, sure, but it probably wasn’t the best thing to say when seeing someone naked for the first time.

Instead, he delicately ran his fingers over her body, only pausing to look her in the eye and utter reverently, “you are so beautiful.”

Cherry reached up and pulled his head down to meet her lips, soft yet encouraging. With deft fingers, she loosened the straps of his armor and tugged. But with him flush against her body, there was no way it was coming off without his help.

That inspired something in Deacon. He sat up suddenly and clasped his hands together to create a gun and aimed down at her. “Alright, miss, hands where I can see them.”

Cherry’s eyes went wide in shock, unsure where he thought he was going with this.

But Deacon pressed on. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law.”

“Deacon…”

“You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you by the court.”

“Deacon.”

“With these rights in mind, are you still willing to talk with me--”

“Deacon!” Cherry exclaimed, finally breaking his monologue. While it was impressive that he had memorized the entirety of The Miranda Rights, they were not her idea of foreplay.

“What!” He beamed, shrugging, “I was getting back into character!”

Cherry rolled her eyes and shook her head, “I think we’re done with the cop thing for right now.”

“Wait, but--”

“ _Deacon,”_ she warned, “it was all well and fun earlier, but cop roleplay isn’t going to be our first time together.”

He sighed reluctantly and pouted, but he understood what she meant. Honestly, snapping back into the character made this whole thing easier for him-- it put a layer between the reality of it all. Then again, it would keep him from experiencing this moment to the fullest.

“Then… what do you want?” he asked nervously. It had been ages since he had been in this sort of position, and he wasn’t exactly sure what the next move should be.

The corners of Cherry’s mouth quirked up, and her expression became coy. Slowly, she reached out and stroked the unattended bulge in Deacon’s pants, causing him to cough out a gasp.

“I want _you_ , _”_ She purred, voice low, almost dangerous.

Lust spiked back into Deacon, warmth pooling wickedly throughout him. Then, with his confidence reinstated, he slipped his hand down her body and slid between her wet folds, teasing a moan out of her. With a smug look and a nearly dangerous voice, he responded, “I think I can manage that.”

Cherry grasped his armor and wrenched him forward, the two coming back together in a rough, sloppy crash of lips. Unwilling to detach from one another for more than a second, they tore at his outfit, blindly removing the pieces much more slowly than if they had simply stopped and let Deacon change.

But they didn’t care. What mattered right now was the blinding _need_ that drove them both. Deacon was painfully aware of his erection that had been unattended all night. He practically moaned into Charmer’s mouth as she palmed him through his uniform. His pants were the last article of clothing between the two of them, and Deacon was about ready to tear them to shreds.

Cherry, apparently feeling the same way, gripped Deacon’s shoulders and rolled them so that she was straddling him on the bed. Then, leaning back onto his legs to give them both room, she gave him a wicked smile and tugged the trousers down.

Deacon rolled his head back on the bed, grateful to finally be free from the confines of his clothing.

“ _Wow.”_

“...What?” Deacon answered lifting his head back up to look at Charmer, not sure whether to be flattered or worried.

Her expression was full of impressed shock, with a hint of amusement as she stared down at him. Then, her eyes snapped back to his and she explained, “It’s just that this is the one thing everyone expects guys to lie about… and you, a bonafide liar, don’t even _need_ to.”

Deacon beamed confidently at her and folded his hands behind his head. “What can I say? I remembered to drink my milk when I was growing up.”

Charmer rolled her eyes at him, “Alright, alright- don’t get cocky, now.”

His face lit up at the opportunity, “Don’t you think I’m _already--_ ”

The feeling of her hand on him cut Deacon off, and for the second time that night, he was speechless.

Cherry began slowly, gripping him at the base and teasing it with a rub of her thumb, leveling him with a gaze that dared him to keep going. But, of course, he didn’t-- not when she had him like this. After she was sure that Deacon didn’t have any other smart comments to add, Cherry began in earnest, stroking and twisting her wrist along his full length.

Deacon groaned and pressed his back into the bed. A simple handjob shouldn’t get him going so easily, but it had been awhile, and _God_ was she good at it.

Cherry grinned at his helpless form and decided to take it a step further. Sliding back and straddling one of his legs, she licked a stripe up the entirety of his cock. Deacon’s hips bucked underneath her, but this time, she didn’t stop to look at him. Removing her hand, Cherry took him into her mouth; running her tongue along the tip, she bobbed once, twice, and then slid him in completely. She recoiled slightly at the feeling of his cock hitting the back of her throat, but it was refreshing to have a partner who could actually cause that discomfort. Nate had been average, but nothing special. Deacon, on the other hand, was a bit of a way upwards from impressive.

“Oh _fuck,_ ” he groaned, as Charmer came up and swirled her tongue around his tip before descending once again. Deacon had already been on the edge with just her hands, but now… it was taking all of his strength to hold it together. If their first time wasn’t going to start with campy roleplay-- it definitely wasn’t going to end with him finishing too soon.

He buried his fingers in the hair at the base of her skull and tugged.

With a wet pop that sent electricity throughout Deacon’s veins, Charmer pulled back and gave him a questioning look. But before she could ask what was wrong, Deacon wrenched her up towards his face, rolling so that he was back on top.

His lips scorched their way from her lips, across her neck, igniting a wild flame that burned away the sweet, slow pace they had been dancing around. Deacon moaned against her skin, laving a pert nipple with his tongue while his thumb rubbed tantalizing circles against the other.

If he hadn’t been on the verge of losing his mind, Deacon would be kicking himself for spending a year with Charmer and never doing _this._ He had missed out on so much… wasted all that time without knowing how her bare skin tasted; how her muscles went taut with pleasure as he brought his fingers back to her center, rubbing her clit with vigor.

“Oh God, _Deacon,_ ” She whimpered, snatching his hand away and looking at him with wildfire in her eyes.

“Do you want my mouth?” he asked in a low, almost hopeful voice, hot breath still teasing her nipple.

But she shook her head “no” and swallowed thickly with need. “I want you… I _need_ you inside me. _Now._ ”

Deacon didn’t have to be told twice. He repositioned himself as fast as lightning, pressing his hips so that his cock nestled against her heat.

However, ever the impatient one, Charmer took the reigns. She rocked her hips so that he slid against her, and raked her nails down his back. They both groaned hungrily at the sensation, so close to finally being consumed by one another that it was driving them crazy.

Cherry lifted her head and captured Deacon’s lips, roughly, teeth pulling at his bottom lip as she rocked against him once more. She was already on the verge of coming. _But not yet,_ she told herself. She wanted it to be while he was inside her; while he was the closest and most honest he had ever been with her.

With one more tender kiss and a look of complete trust and confirmation, Deacon pushed into her.

Cherry choked out a gasp. Two hundred years without sex definitely had not prepared her for this… not that she was complaining.

Deacon wasn’t complaining either. His forehead flush with hers, he panted against his partner’s lips. It was as if God had moved Heaven and Earth to that room-- that moment-- that _body._ In the heat of the moment, he vowed to himself that he would never tell another lie, so long as he could remain buried inside of her. A promise that he would obviously have to break, but the sentiment of the thing is what mattered.

He pulled himself back, slowly, almost all the way, before bucking back into her. Charmer-- _Cherry,_ was warm, wet, willing. Her muscles were already tightening around his cock, and he struggled to keep himself from following suit. He wanted this moment to last forever.

Cherry hitched her leg onto his hip, allowing Deacon a better angle to drive deeper, _harder_. It also pressed him so close that his pelvis grazed against her throbbing clit, sending her closer and closer to her release.

She breathed roughly with each rock of his hips, sharp pants that kept the rhythm of his movement; but it was quickly becoming unsteady, frantically unfocused in search of a finish.

“ _Deacon,”_ She whimpered, “I’m so-- _ah_ , _fuck_ \-- I’m so close.”

He couldn’t speak. The whimper of his name was making him teeter on the edge, his own thrusts becoming as erratic as her breath. He just nodded in agreement, capturing her lips in one more passionate burst.

And then they both came closer together than they ever had before. Cherry cried out, both legs pressing him as deep as he could go, muscles spasming around his cock in a spectacular release of tension. In the same moment, Deacon’s own body became white hot with the heat of her orgasm igniting around him. As Cherry pulled him in and contracted around him, Deacon buried his head in the crook of Cherry’s neck and spilled deep inside of her.

Then, he collapsed against her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. It was a silent _Thank you and God for this opportunity. I will_ absolutely _be coming again._ Cherry stroked his hair softly, as though she could hear his thoughts, and hummed approval, low in her chest.

After a long while, Deacon pulled back to gaze down at her, eyes half-lidded with comfort and sated lust. Their hearts were pounding against each others’ chest with what had just happened, as well as the anticipation of what would come next. It was thrilling… and it was also extremely terrifying. Neither of them had done or _felt_ anything like this in a very long time. And jumping into it with one another was more than just a dabble. It would be jumping straight into the deep end, risking everything they built-- that they fought for, just for a chance to find happiness. But in that room, in that moment, their shared gaze betrayed the feelings that they had been holding back for quite some time. It was clear that they were both willing to take that leap, together.

He had to do something, _say_ something before the walls came back up and made it impossible for him to make any sort of jump. Deacon smoothed his thumb gently across her lips and pressed one more, long, tender kiss to them, before pulling back once again and whispering, “Charmer… Cherry, I--”

There was a knock at the door.

They both froze, heads snapping towards the sound. They waited one moment, two, waiting to see if they had imagined the interruption.

The knock sounded once again, followed by a tentative: “Hello? Is anyone in there?”

It was Charlie, Cherry recognized, though his voice sounded a bit different... more self-assured than it had before.

The mind reboot must have helped in removing the fear that he had been petrified with. _Thank God for small miracles,_ she thought, albeit annoyed due to the poor timing this new confidence had inspired in their friend.

She looked back up at Deacon with a grimace, silently asking whether or not they should answer the door. He seemed torn, groaning quietly as duty and desire battled within him. Ultimately, he cocked his head back in resigned responsibility and decided that they needed to answer this call. Deacon rolled off of Cherry and onto the bed with a petulant huff as his back hit the mattress.

Cherry gave him an amused smile and ruffled his hair before standing up. “Just a minute!” She called, pulling her dress back on and fixing her lipstick in the small compact she had with her. Her hair was a mess, but with the quick work of a hair tie, she pulled it back into a bun. It didn't match the rest of her look, but would ultimately have to work for the pinch they were in.

With one more smoothing motion over her dress, Cherry swung open the door, smiling at the man she was always happy to see, even at this inconvenient moment.

“Hi, I’m Simon,” he began, with a semi-concerned look on his face, “Doctor Amari told me that I had a surgery of some sort, and I would have some memory loss from right before the procedure… she mentioned that there were people upstairs that would be taking me home, tomorrow, and I couldn’t sleep, so… I came here.”

He finished blurting out his monologue and paused to take a breath, finally taking in the scene before him. Cherry was doing her best to control her breathing, still heavily made up and in a dress that was weirdly out of place for hanging out in a bedroom. But what _really_ seemed to shock him was the sight he saw behind her.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stuttered, eyes snapping rapidly back to hers, “...did I come at a bad time?”

Cherry’s polite smile faded at the question, and she quickly swiveled her body to see what horrifying detail she could have missed before answering the door. And of course, as usual, it wasn’t her fault at all…. it was Deacon’s.

He was lying against the headboard with his arms casually tucked behind his head. The rest of his body was underneath the covers, _completely_ naked. He had also replaced his glasses and was beaming at the two of them with a wide, lipstick-covered smile.

Cherry felt her eyes nearly pop out of her head, and she spun on her heel to offer their charge a stammered explanation. “No! No! This isn’t a bad time! Just let me get into something more comfortable-- CASUAL! I mean, I’ll change into something casual, and I will meet you downstairs to answer any questions you might have.”

“Okay…” he confirmed uncomfortably, and with one more glance at Deacon, he left their doorway as fast as he could.

Cherry shut the door as soon as he had left the frame, both hands held against it, far above where she was hanging her head in mortification. She remained glued in that position for a long while-- that is, until Deacon made the mistake of audibly snickering behind her.

“You _jackass!_ ” Cherry burst out in a hushed accusation, spinning around and throwing her her arms out for emphasis.

Deacon simply shot back an even wider shit-eating grin and tossed back the covers, bouncing out of their bed. “Well, I’d say that we made a fantastic first impression on School Teacher Simon!” He beamed as he slipped on jeans and a shirt. “I’m sure he will be completely at ease traveling with us tomorrow!”

He waited for some sort of reaction to that, but Cherry remained frozen in her incredulity. Deacon shrugged nonchalantly at that and waltzed towards the door, reaching out to open it. A light yet stern smack reached his hand in response, and he pulled it away in mock betrayal, rubbing it like Cherry had poured boiling water on it.

“You are not coming with me down there, Officer Idiot,” she scolded his guilty-puppy expression, pointing her finger in his face.

“Oh come on!” Deacon protested, holding his hands up in a disarming fashion when she narrowed her eyes and took a step towards him, “I think I was his favorite out of that interaction! And besides… I wasn’t the one who accidentally hit on him.”

Her jaw dropped in offense, but her scowl melted into laughter at the idiocy of the exchange. “Thank God he’s leaving the Commonwealth, otherwise Dez would tear us a new one when he eventually let slip what he saw.”

Deacon nodded enthusiastically in agreement and reached out to pull his still giggling partner in for an apologetic embrace. Their laughter died away as they held each other; the embrace reminding them of the one that had been interrupted just minutes before. The magic of the moment may have been broken, but there was no going back from the step that they had taken that night.

Deacon felt like a complete moron for dodging his feelings for so long; he hadn’t thought that he deserved this kind of happiness. But now... everything was different. It took this strange and goofy day for Deacon to realize that Cherry was pretty much the most important thing to him in the entire Wasteland. Sure, there was the Railroad and the synths… but everything paled in comparison when he thought about her. Cherry needed to know how much he cared. No jokes, no running… just honesty.

He rested his cheek on top of her head and exhaled deeply. _Damn it, Deacon. You can do this._

“Hey, Cherry?” he began, cursing the nervous caution that touched his words.

Her amused chuffing stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice, picking up that the vibe of their conversation had changed yet again. Normally, she would step back to look him in the eyes when he became serious, but somehow she sensed that this would be difficult for him to say; so she remained, arms wrapped tightly around his waist. “Yeah, Deacon?”

A minute passed before he continued, prompting his words with a nervous puff of air and a small chuckle.

“I love you.”

Deacon felt Cherry’s shocked exhale against his chest like she had been socked in the stomach. He wasn’t sure how he expected her to react to what was just said. They had started the day off as friends, joking and annoying each other, and now…. Now Deacon was letting every honest feeling he had around Cherry, slip out, and he was laying them all down for her to see.  

Silence settled over the room as he waited for her to say something. He counted to about thirty before he could feel her breathing again. _Well, that’s a good sign._ A few more moments of stunned quiet, and then, Cherry pulled back and looked up at him.

Slowly, deliberately, she reached up to remove his glasses to study his face. After what seemed to be an eternity on Deacon’s end, she stepped up onto her toes and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, whispering her words like they had been inscribed in her soul.

“I love you too, Deacon.”

It felt like an elephant had been lifted from his chest, and by the look of giddy relief on Cherry’s face, she felt the same way. The two of them remained looking into each other’s eyes, the weight of the broken world around them, fading with the complete trust and connection they had finally found in each other. Then, the overwhelming emotion of it all caused Cherry to start laughing. Hiccuping, childlike laughter that leaped to Deacon, leaving them on the verge of tears.

When things calmed after a moment, Cherry carefully extracted herself from Deacon’s grip, stepping towards the door with a devilish expression.

“This doesn’t mean that you get to come with me to talk to Simon,” she stated as fact, face full of playful snark. And before Deacon could react or protest, she stuck her tongue out and bounded out of the room.

“Now, that’s low!” he called after her, mock betrayal coloring his tone.  “...You also forgot to change!”

Deacon shook his head at the incredulity of the evening, finding himself happier than he had been in years; he could barely contain his own laughter with the immense feeling in his chest.

And then, surprisingly, Cherry ran back into the room, and threw her arms around Deacon’s neck, placing a big kiss on his lips. “I left it on because we weren’t done using it when Simon showed up,” She explained with a smirk, “I’ll be back soon… and do me a favor? Put the uniform back on.”

Cherry winked at him mischievously and slipped back out of the room, leaving him to lie in wait for the renewed promise of the evening.

_Thank God for weird cop fetishes, huh?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Don't forget to comment and kudos!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Kat for editing for me!
> 
> My Tumblr is koenigs-bambina
> 
> Please leave kudos and comments if you liked this!
> 
> Please also leave comments if you didn't like it, and let me know what I can do differently!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


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